


Nights Like This

by orphan_account



Series: Sledge Hockey [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 4th of July, Alternate Universe, Amputee Jack, Disabled Characters, M/M, MS Bitty, Madison Georgia, Mentions of homophobia, Multiple Sclerosis, Samwell Men's Sledge Hockey, Trans Jack, established relationships - Freeform, tense family relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 12:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11691681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Madison was home--but now it's full of people who love Bitty in spite of who he is, not for it.  It's full of people who don't accept his reality, who believe if they don't ask about it, they won't have to know about it.  And the last thing Bitty wants to do, really, is be there.  But he knows he owes it to his terrified fourteen year old self, who never believed he'd get his happy ending, the moment to show off that was so, so incredibly happy, and so, so incredibly loved.





	Nights Like This

**Author's Note:**

> This is for those who asked for a sequel, those who wanted more [redacted], those who enjoyed reading in this universe as much as I loved writing in it.
> 
> This fic contains explicit content. Jack and Bitty are in a long-term, established relationship so please assume that anything sexual has already been discussed in detail for the comfort of both parties.
> 
> Warnings: implied homophobia and abelism from Bitty's family. Nothing in explicit detail.

I will kiss you, I will kiss you  
I will kiss you forever on nights like this  
I will kiss you, I will kiss you  
-The Cure

*** 

The feelings swirling round in his stomach are a mixture of good and bad. Good, because things have been going really well lately. His new treatments are a dream compared to the old ones. He doesn’t always feel stellar after each one, but he’s not left spending a day or two hunched over the toilet praying for death either, so comparatively it’s like a trip to Disney World. He hasn’t had a relapse in months, not since the start of his first term back in grad school, and that in itself is something to celebrate.

That, in itself, was the reason he decided he’d like to show his face in Georgia again. Because the last thing Bitty wanted to think about when he set foot back in his momma and daddy’s place is the looks on their faces like somehow his disability represented failure, instead of change. And he knew how most of his family was going to see him. He knew what those looks of pity really meant—and how they didn’t really care if the haus had a large trophy from winning the sledge hockey divisional championships. It was still a sport for disabled people, it still sat in a house full of wheelchairs and canes and prosthetics, and he knew half of his family would never see them as functioning human beings. They were a statistic, a facebook meme reminding able-bodied people not to be lazy, not to complain.

But all the same, he was also coming home with the world’s cutest man on his arm. The world’s cutest man who wanted to hold his hand and kiss him on the mouth, and love him forever, and that was something Bitty was willing to bring home and boast about and flaunt because damn it, he deserved this little indulgence.

When he’d started to feel guilty about it, Jack had merely crowded him against the wall and kissed him until the words died out and all that Bitty knew was the soft, warm points of where their bodies connected. And when Jack finally pulled away, Bitty was a little bit breathless and a lot in love and he thought, _fuck it, if Jack doesn’t care, I’m gonna do it_. 

So they did. They compromised—Bitty bought the tickets, Jack paid for the upgrades—they packed their things, and just before the fourth of July, they boarded a plane to the place Bitty once called home.

It felt different, stepping off the plane. Bitty would never, ever forget the way the heavy, humid summer air felt against his skin, or the rich smells that meant Georgia, and his childhood—sometimes good, but a lot of the time, bad. But it no longer had that pull. He could lose himself in some of the nostalgia, but not feel a homesick ache asking him to stay. Especially not when Jack’s fingers were tangled with his as he tugged him to the rental car counter.

That, in itself, had been a chore. Bitty couldn’t drive anymore, so they had to call around to a dozen places until they found one that could offer Jack hand-controls. It had been a bigger cost, and a longer wait, but Jack insisted it was worth it.

“I know you don’t want your mom to be driving us everywhere, and I know you don’t want to sleep in their house,” Jack reminded him.

It was true. Every word. Because his parents might love him, and want the best, and they might have chosen to vote liberal, but Bitty could still hear the edge in his voice when he talked about Jack, and he wasn’t sure how much scrutiny he was ready to deal with on his first trip back.

Jack filled out the paperwork with practised ease, then accepted the keys and didn’t seem at all fazed by the way the woman behind the counter kept staring at their joined hands, and the way her face did a twitch when she saw the two titanium legs extending out from the bottom of Jack’s khaki shorts. Bitty wanted to make a scene, put their love and their bodies on display because he’d spent so much of his life being made to feel uncomfortable that it was only fair these people felt it a little.

But then Jack smiled at him again—soft, keeping him present and grounded—and he remembered none of that mattered. He squeezed the top of his cane in his right hand, and Jack’s fingers with his left.

“Ready, sweetpea?” he asked.

Jack dragged Bitty’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles, and Bitty did not miss the way Jack deliberately caught the woman’s eye as he did it. So okay, yeah. Maybe Bitty wasn’t the only one feeling those salty little compulsions.

The car wasn’t a far walk, luckily, though Jack paused the moment they stepped outside the doors and he stared at Bitty wide-eyed.

After a second, Bitty rolled his eyes with a laugh. “I told you, honey. I told you it was going to be bad.”

“Jesus, yeah but I didn’t think…” Jack swallowed then swiped the back of his hand over his brow. “I thought it was bad inside.”

“The AC pulls most of the moisture out of the air,” Bitty explained, and Jack’s eyes widened a little. “Come on, honey. You’re gonna melt.”

The car was one of those little hybrids, with a dome-like top and barely seating four. But it was enough for them and their luggage, and there was a little button on the side of the wheel which allowed Jack to turn down the temperature as low as it would go. Bitty laughed at the way Jack shoved his face in front of the vent and sighed in the cool air.

“Are you sure you’re gonna last?” Bitty chirped.

Jack rolled his eyes as he turned his face to look at his boyfriend. “I don’t know. If I go, please bury me with my lucky puck.”

Bitty smacked him in the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here and checked in. The sooner we get to the hotel, the sooner we can give Georgia a proper welcome.”

By proper he meant very queer, and Jack perked up immediately—understanding—and wasted no more time tearing out onto the road.

*** 

By the time they got to the hotel, Bitty was more tired than turned on. He followed Jack into the hotel lobby with a little shuffle to his step, and a raging desire to get into a cool shower, then maybe climb beneath the sheets of the hopefully-soft hotel bed, and take a long nap. Samwell wasn’t that far from Madison, but his bones ached like he’d been on an international flight.

He was only half paying attention as Jack checked in and grabbed their room keys, but he smiled as Jack grabbed Bitty’s hand, letting their fingers tangle loosely in the lift as it rode to the fourth floor. Their room was at the end of the corridor, far enough away to be annoying, but he felt a profound sense of relief when the door opened, and a waft of cool air drifted across his cheeks.

The wall unit tucked under the window was on full blast, and though it was dim from black-out curtains, Bitty could see the edge of the large, king-sized bed pressed up against the wall. He let his cane drop against the side of the nightstand and sank down on the edge, feeling the soft duvet under him.

“God, I just want to sleep for the next six hours,” he groaned.

Jack stood in front of him, his legs between the space of Bitty’s spread thighs, and he brushed the backs of his knuckles across Bitty’s jaw. “You wanted a shower, bud. Go take one, okay? I promise it’ll feel good. Then we can nap. We don’t have to be at your parents’ until dinner, right?”

Bitty nodded, then pushed himself up, letting Jack’s big, warm hands rest at his waist as he was tugged in for a kiss. “Mm. I love you, baby.”

Jack chuckled right up against Bitty’s mouth. “I love you too. Go on.”

Bitty pulled a face, ready to chirp Jack about implying that he smelt bad, but he was too tired to go there. He used the wall as support as he shuffled into the bathroom, and was grateful for the lack of tub which could make climbing under the stream a lot easier.

The water was a little too warm for his preference in the heat and humidity, but cleaning the airplane smell off him felt wonderful. The hotel soaps had a sharp scent of grapefruit, which invigorated him just enough to finish up getting clean, and he didn’t bother with anything besides boxers after towelling off.

Coming back into the room, Jack was already in the bed, shirtless, legs propped next to Bitty’s cane. Bitty let out a soft, happy groan, anxious to feel Jack’s skin pressed against his own. The sheets were blessedly cool, and the room still dark from the closed curtains, and he let himself be wrapped up in gentle arms, eyes closing as soft lips pressed to the back of his neck.

“Sleep, bud. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

*** 

Bitty did wake, less than a few hours in, but feeling far more rested than he had been after stepping off the plane. There was still an edge to the air in the room, thick like honey with the promise of oppressive heat just beyond their insulated hotel window. But it was hard to care much about that with Jack pressed along the length of him. Jack’s shorter stump was tucked between Bitty’s thighs, pressing upward gently into his balls, making his cock swell to half hard as Jack’s lips found a sensitive spot on the back of his shoulder.

“Mm. I sure don’t mind wakin’ up like this,” Bitty murmured, and he could feel more than he could hear Jack’s chuckle against his skin.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You’re so…” He trailed off in a slight groan, the palm of his hand drawing a line from his ribcage, down to his hips. He curled his fingers round the cut of Bitty’s hip, his fingers dancing their way into the V of his crotch. His fingers played into Bitty’s light, coarse hair, creeping closer to the place he wanted to be touched, Jack laughing slightly as Bitty tried to arch into him. “Impatient,” he muttered.

“Mean,” Bitty muttered back without any venom. He twisted his head so Jack could kiss him, the angle awkward, but the press of mouth searing. “I want you.”

Jack let out a short, sharp breath and he pressed the flat of his palm to Bitty’s dick, not moving, but the pressure itself was so, _so_ good. “I want you too,” he murmured. He drew his hand back then, back around Bitty’s hip, to cup one of his ass cheeks. Kneading a little with his fingers, Jack’s grip danced back until it was parting Bitty gently, the careful sweep of fingertips against him. “Can I? I…I want…”

They didn’t do this often. Bitty liked it most of the time, more so when Jack was in the mood for it than specifically wanting to feel Jack inside of him. It wasn’t the easiest sex they had. The mechanics of their bodies made positions difficult—though on Bitty’s birthday there had been the hottest moment of Bitty’s life as he sank down in Jack’s lap, Jack perched in the computer chair, gripping him by the hips and guiding him in a firm rhythm, the only sounds in the room were Bitty’s sharp breaths, and the quiet hum of Jack’s vibrator getting him off over, and over, and over.

He didn’t think they’d be able to do that now. The hotel room was painfully devoid of comfortable swivel chairs which would offer them the ideal position, and Jack didn’t like to fuck with his legs on because it pinched and tended to kill the mood. Sometimes Bitty could seat himself in Jack’s lap, but his hips weren’t feeling particularly co-operative.

“Bud?” Jack asked, and Bitty realised he had tensed with hesitation.

“I’m just…how can we…”

Jack let his arm drape over Bitty’s waist again, tucking him tight against the front of his chest. “Like this,” Jack said, and pushed his hips forward. “We should be able to, like this.”

“And you brought…”

Jack chuckled, nodding against the back of Bitty’s shoulder. “I brought it.”

“Then go get ready, and if you hand me some lube, I can…get myself started.”

Jack groaned again, deep and throaty, nipping at the back of Bitty’s neck before shuffling off the bed and carefully scooting himself across the floor toward his case. 

Peering off the side of his bed, Bitty watched as Jack tugged into what looked like a rather innocuous travel back tucked between their t-shirts. He could hear the soft shuffft on the belt of Jack’s dick, and suddenly he laughed. When Jack looked up, Bitty said, “Lord, the people looking at the x-ray of our bags.”

Jack smiled wolfishly as he banged over the bottle of Bitty’s favourite lube, and he shrugged. “If people really wanna sit and wonder about the way I fuck my boyfriend…”

Bitty flushed, but he sat back with the lube, coating his fingers, and quickly got to work on himself. His eyes were closed, giving into the sensations of his own fingers, and in the background he could hear Jack slipping the dick on, and it made him go even hotter all over, his knees all-but trembling with want and anticipation.

Only a few more moments passed before Jack’s hands were back on him, urging him into his side, his own fingers lubed and pressing where Bitty’s were. “Let me,” Jack asked softly.

Bitty groaned, letting Jack’s hand replace his own, his eyes still shut, losing himself in every push of Jack’s thick fingers. “Baby,” he groaned. “Good…good, god. Please,” he mumbled.

Jack didn’t waste too much more time after that. Bitty could hear the soft sounds of Jack’s vibe, then was lost in the sudden push of thick, wet cock inside him. It was…so much. It was everything. Jack’s hips easing each thrust deeper and deeper, Jack’s hand petting along his side, keeping him from getting tense. Jack’s breath puffing in his ear with his own pleasure. The feel of Jack shifting his hips to adjust the angle, to wait for that moment when…

“Fuck, god, yes. There,” Bitty gasped, and he felt Jack’s hips stutter with his first orgasm. Bitty’s eyes all-but rolled back in his head, and then Jack’s hand wrapped round him, pumping with the short thrusts. He could feel Jack’s thighs tense behind him, straining with a more-than-usual effort, but he wasn’t backing down, pushing, pushing, bringing Bitty closer to the edge until…. “I’m coming, god sweetheart, I’m coming.”

Bitty buried his groans into the pillow as his cock pulsed and spilt on Jack’s knuckles.

He was only half aware of the movement in the room, of Jack pulling out, and getting his legs on, and padding to the bathroom for a wet flannel to clean up. He really only came to when Jack was leant over him, wearing a self-satisfied grin, doing a more thorough job of clean-up than was strictly necessary.

Bitty gave him a dopey smile, reaching up with sex-weak fingers to trace at the line of his jaw. “I love you, Jack.”

Jack let the flannel fall to the floor with a dull plonk, and stretched out next to Bitty. His hand cupped Bitty’s cheek, thumb brushing along a constellation of freckles under his right eye. “I love you too. I know you’re…I know this weekend is going to be tough on you. But just remember I’m here, okay?”

Bitty gnawed at his lower lip, then let a breath out through his nose. “I’m scared. I’m scared of…of the questions they’re going to ask you. About the accident, about your past…”

Jack’s soft smile interrupted him. “I’ve dealt with it before. How many times the press all-but ask me to drop my trousers so they can get a peek of what’s inside…”

“This is my family, Jack,” Bitty said, his voice tense, strained. “I don’t want…” He paused to gather himself, to make sure he was saying the right words. “I don’t want to go home, and for you to hear all the shitty things they say every time you look at me. I don’t want you to see me, and…and remember them.”

“That,” Jack said, his voice low, fierce, full of purpose, “will never happen. I love you, and I know whatever comes out of their mouth is all on them, not you.”

Bitty let his eyes close against Jack’s words, feeling the vow deep in his bones, but not quite yet willing to believe it. Because he trusted Jack, but he also knew his family and well…

“If it gets bad, we’ll leave,” Bitty said. “Okay? If it’s bad we’ll just…we’ll go.”

“Alright,” Jack murmured, and drew Bitty in for a long kiss. “But if you think anything is going to drive me away from you, then you’ve clearly lost it because nothing,” he palmed Bitty’s cheek, firm and fierce, “nothing will ever change how I feel.”

Bitty desperately, _desperately_ wanted to believe that.

*** 

The drive to his parents’ had him worked up, knee shaking up and down by the time they pulled into the long, rocky drive. Bitty could see a handful of cars from various aunts, uncles, and cousins, and could already hear the twang of the favoured, old 70s folk music playing off in the distance.

He could see the dark curtains of his old childhood bedroom hanging in the window like nothing had ever changed, like if he looked hard enough suddenly it would be fifteen years ago, and Bitty would be here—a more abled body, but stuck under a dark cloud of uncertainty that anything was ever going to get better, that anyone was ever going to love him.

He came back to himself as Jack reached across the console to brush fingers along the inside of his wrist, and he managed a smile, and a quiet sigh. “Let’s get this over with. Momma’s probably in the kitchen, so we can make proper introductions before we go into the…you know…”

“Chaos?” Jack offered, and when Bitty rolled his eyes, he laughed. “I’m great with kids, Bits. Just remember that.”

Bitty bit his lip, not wanting to remind Jack that he was good with kids who weren’t raised worshipping the holy trinity of Jesus, the shotgun, and the American Flag, and anything that even appeared to go against any one of those things was an abomination. The French-Canadian, Jewish, bisexual trans man at his side, well…

All the same, he refused to hide himself anymore. His momma made it clear anyone who was going to be overtly rude to Jack wouldn’t be coming, and he could only hope Jack wasn’t great at reading the intense, southern passive aggression. Or at least could shoulder it until they were gone.

They got out of the car, Jack linking Bitty’s fingers with his own, and they paused near the three steps which led to the front door. Bitty gripped his cane and sighed. “They didn’t…we don’t have a lot of um. Accommodations.”

“I’m good with steps, mon bé. It’s not me I’m worried about.” There was a furrow in Jack’s brow. “I mean, they never considered you’d…”

“No,” Bitty said, a little sharply. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t expected it. He knew there was a part of his parents who believed at some point he would find that miracle drug that would make it all go back the way it was, and they just had to wait. “But it’s…it’s fine. Three steps, no big deal. Let’s just get inside.”

He wasn’t entirely sure how to prepare Jack for what was to come. The outward politeness, the smiles and the hugs, and the acting like nothing was wrong in the world. And the tornado of frustration and anger you felt on the inside just had to be pushed down, and pushed down, until you could breathe again.

“Come on, sweetpea.” He grabbed Jack’s hand and went for the door.

The noise was intense, but nothing he hadn’t experienced before. His parents mostly kept everyone outside, some of his older aunts of course would congregate in the living room, but all the kids would be running in the back garden, which would contain most of the chaos. Bitty could smell something cooking, and he dragged Jack by the tips of his fingers into the kitchen.

His momma was there, her back to the doorway, fussing with the top of a pie when they walked in. His dad’s sister, Beth, was leant on the edge of the counter arranging strawberries on the top of a tart, and she looked up, her eyes going a little wide.

“Dicky!”

Suzanne turned then, her face melting into a smile which faltered only for a moment as her gaze fell on his and Jack’s linked hands. But the grin was back instantly, and she held out both arms for him. He passed his cane off to Jack to allow the hug, feeling the juxtaposition of her affection—warmth, love, home in her arms, but somewhere in her sigh, judgment, regret, and disappointment. His eyes stung with it, but he still gave her a watery smile as he pulled back.

“Hi, momma.”

“Oh my baby, look at you. You look great! That new medication is doing wonders. Beth, wasn’t I just telling you how well he’s doing on it? Fewer and fewer sick days, goin’ back to grad school. Soon this is just gonna be a distant memory that…”

“Momma,” Bitty said, his voice tired. He reached for his cane, leaning on it to make a point because even if he never had a relapse again, this was still his reality. “This is Jack.”

Suzanne’s eyes flashed with something—recognition maybe, because Jack was the spit of Bob. He could see her dark eyes roaming his face—searching for something in there. Then her eyes flickered to his legs, covered by jeans, her eyes narrowed like maybe she would be able to _tell_ there was something different. But it was gone in a flash, and her arms were open to him then, tugging him in, patting his cheek just like he was anyone in the family.

“Oh you two, I’m so glad you’re here. Was the flight okay? Oh and Dicky, hon, do you want to help me with those last pies?”

And so it was, like any other time Bitty came to visit. He cast Jack an apologetic glance and hurried to help take over before the real party began.

*** 

After a few photos which Suzanne insisted on, introductions were made, pies were carried outdoors, and Bitty made the rounds with Jack. Everyone was just like his momma—saccharine smiles and polite hellos, and the way their eyes lingered on Jack like they were trying to strip him down and see what was underneath.

It was like every nosy journalist without the bravery of words.

Jack took it all in stride, like he did everything, and Bitty found himself both hating how well Jack could take it, and feeling profoundly grateful he wasn’t suffering as much as Bitty would have been. As it was, within twenty minutes he was tired of answering questions about his health, and explaining that yes, he was grateful for new treatments, but no, it wasn’t making him _better_.

He made the final loop toward the grill, where his uncle Charlie and his dad were grilling various slabs of meats which somehow managed to smell delicious, and churn his stomach at the same time. His nerves must have been obvious, because Jack wasted no time in grabbing Bitty’s fingers and twisting them together as they approached.

He could see the narrow-eyed look his uncle gave him, and the way Charlie leant in to Coach to whisper something, and the way he hurried off so he could avoid The Talk. Bitty’s jaw clenched, but he managed a smile when his dad nodded at him. “Junior.”

“Hey, Coach. We just wanted to say hi, make proper hellos since you didn’t get to meet Jack before.” He left the, ‘Since you’ve never bothered to come and see me in Samwell,’ largely unspoken.

Coach set his tongs down after a second, swiping his hands on the edges of his shorts, then extended a hand to them both. Bitty had never been particularly affectionate with his father, but this somehow felt worse than the shoulder-clasp he usually got.

“How was the trip? Hope the two’a you weren’t bothered much.” He grabbed the tongs and began to flip a few of the steaks.

“It was fine,” Bitty said, his eyes darting for a way out. “We upgraded our tickets so no one really said much.”

“Mm,” Coach grunted. “Must be nice.”

“I…” Bitty started, but Jack stepped in.

“You want to show me to the bathroom?”

Bitty gave him a look so profoundly grateful, so in love, it made Jack’s mouth part slightly with a startled breath. “Sure, honey. Coach, you mind if we…”

“Go on. Just be careful on those stairs.”

Bitty gave a tense nod, and didn’t look up from the ground as he dragged Jack through a clear path from the back garden, to the kitchen door. The moment they were inside, Bitty sagged with some relief, even though he could hear the voices of a couple aunts in the other room. He glanced up with a grateful smile when Jack’s fingers tangled with his own, and Bitty gave him a firm nod, then tugged him toward the stairs.

It was a slow trek, Bitty trying not to feel bitterness toward his parents with each step, but soon enough they were on the landing, Jack pulling Bitty to a firm stop in front of a row of old school portraits. “This is you,” Jack said, wide-eyed.

Bitty flushed. “Lord, please don’t look at those.” His eyes trailed to his grade six one where he had braces, and he’d just started getting spotty, and his cowlicks were at their worst. It was chirping material for life.

Jack chuckled, wrapping himself up behind Bitty, tucking his chin over Bitty’s shoulder to look at the portrait together. “You’ve seen my photos. You’ve seen me shitting in the Stanley Cup, Bits. It doesn’t get worse than that.”

Bitty let out a tiny giggle, shrugging. “I guess. Anyway, you wanna see my bedroom?”

Jack pressed a kiss to the underside of Bitty’s ear. “Yes, I very much want to see your bedroom.”

It was largely unchanged, updated from when Bitty had gone off to University, but there were bits and pieces of him all over from every era. He had a few childhood book still stuffed in his shelves, a notebook with scribbles from middle school classes, a couple of old high school text books. There were photos from his time figure skating, a few of his medals still hung to the wall by old thumbtacks.

His duvet was new though, and the pillows, and the desk was spotless, the only thing left in the corner a small potted plant that was near dead. But it was enough, he thought, and watched with a small grin as Jack wandered round the room, face eager to digest all these little parts of Bitty he hadn’t known.

With a soft click, Bitty turned the lock on the door, then rested his cane against the side, walking over to Jack who took him into open arms. He pushed up into a kiss, his fingers delving straight into Jack’s hair, a little firmer than he normally was.

“Everything okay?” Jack asked, pulling back.

Bitty swallowed thickly, sighing. “Yes. No. I don’t…I don’t know. It’s nice to be home, but it also feels awful, and it’s strange to be in this room which doesn’t even feel like mine anymore. I wish…” He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to Jack’s collarbone. “I wish they’d love me for me, not in spite of me.”

Jack said nothing, just let his fingers trail up and down the length of Bitty’s spine.

“I keep remembering the scared teenager who thought life was going to be nothing but a series of gay tragedies, and I can still hardly believe I get to bring my boyfriend in here.” Bitty let out a small, half-bitter laugh. “I used to fantasise about that, you know?”

“Oh yeah?” Jack asked, raising a brow when Bitty looked up at him.

Bitty rolled his eyes and smacked him on the arm. “Shush. I just mean…it was a way to rebel, you know? Like, I knew it could never happen. My parents would’a had my guts for garters if I’d’a tried anything untoward with some boy but…I used to envision sneakin’ some cute boy in through the window and laying him out on my bed and…lord,” he breathed out, flushing bright hot and red. “Well, you get the picture.”

“I think I do,” Jack said, his tone thoughtful, though his eyes were growing dark with heat. He took a step back toward the bed, then another, carefully dragging Bitty with him. “What would you have done?”

“Given him what’s probably the world’s worst blow job. Since you know, teenagers are objectively terrible at those sorts of things.”

Jack chuckled, curling his first finger in, dragging the knuckle across Bitty’s lower lip. “I don’t think I could manage a climb in through the window, but I’d be happy to help you live out the rest of your fantasy. If you want.”

“Jack,” Bitty said, the word almost like a gasp, the sudden heat of want and desire hitting him like a blow to the gut. His first instinct was to say no—what if someone came looking for them, what if his parents somehow knew and they walked downstairs to everyone _looking at them_.

Only he realised that he was an adult, and if his parents and the others wanted to pretend to be ignorant about what he got up to with his boyfriend well…it was on them. And maybe if Jack was someone he didn’t love this much, he wouldn’t even consider it, but Jack was everything he’d ever dreamt of.

And maybe he owed that terrified little fifteen year old Bitty the triumph of getting to blow his boyfriend in his childhood bed.

“I want you,” Bitty said decidedly, and his fingers went straight for the button on Jack’s jeans. Jack’s pupils blew wide, his mouth parting in a silent gasp as he let Bitty drag down the zip, pulling his jeans and boxers to his knees. It was awkward to stand, and Jack’s legs didn’t entirely want to co-operate but he managed to get himself on his back, thighs spread out on the duvet, his fist between his teeth as Bitty went to his knees.

Using this thumbs, he pushed Jack’s folds open, nosing along the length of his dick, smelling the heady, musky wetness coming from his opening. The fingers of his other hand toyed gently at his entrance, gathering a little bit of the wetness there before brushing up between his folds.

“Please,” Jack said, and Bitty smiled.

“I will. I’d love to take my time, but that’s probably not the best idea so…” And then his voice went quiet as his mouth got to work.

It didn’t take long. The taboo of it all—getting a blow job in Bitty’s childhood bedroom, people downstairs who could come up at any moment—rushed the experience, and soon enough Jack was gasping against his palm, arching his hips, pushing his hand against the back of Bitty’s head for the most amount of friction as he came.

When Bitty pulled away, he swiped the back of his hand along his chin, then kissed up Jack’s thigh before easing his boyfriend back into a sitting position.

“Do you want me to…” Jack asked, but Bitty shook his head.

“Lord, I don’t think we’ll have time, and honestly I’d rather wait until we’re back at the hotel and I can make as much of a racket as I want.” He pushed up carefully, feeling the familiar ache and numbness in his feet, and he perched on the edge of the bed between Jack’s still-exposed thighs. “That was…I…” He swallowed thickly as a strange, heavy emotion settled over him. “Thank you,” he finally managed.

Jack gave him a careful look, then cupped his cheek and kissed him, a soft, sweet thing. “I wish I could go tell the boy you were that it’s going to be okay. That one day you’re going to be more loved than you thought possible. That you’ve got a man who can think of little else besides history, hockey, and getting to spend the rest of his life with you. And I know I can’t, but I can remind you that you aren’t that lonely boy anymore, and you’re here with me, and no matter how long we stay, or what any of these people say to you, no one can drag you back to that.”

Bitty decided not to be embarrassed by the couple of tears that managed to escape. He pressed his face into the crook of Jack’s neck and let himself be held for a moment. “I love you,” was really the only thing he could say back to him. “I love you, and I’m never going to let you forget that.”

*** 

They went downstairs eventually, after Bitty washed up and Jack brushed his hair back into something that didn’t resemble a just-fucked look. They got a few glances, but no one seemed to have missed them, and though that stung a bit, Bitty much preferred that to being given the third degree.

Dinner was served shortly after, and polite conversation drifted across the table. It was nice, quiet in a way which was only slightly abnormal, and likely for their benefit. But Bitty had lost that oppressive weight that had been sat on his chest since they arrived, and he even had a slight bounce to his step when everyone grabbed blankets and headed for the hill to watch the fireworks.

Bitty wasn’t able to grab a spot as high as he wanted, but they found a nice clearing and spread out near a gaggle of his cousins who were wrestling and attempting to shove each other into patches of grass. Bitty remembered being that age, of hating the roughhousing, but wanting so desperately to be a part of it because it meant being a part of them—of something bigger, of family. The disconnect from it now was strange, but less painful when he thought about what was waiting for him at home. Of the haus, of his team who had become closer to him than anyone in Madison had ever been.

Jack settled on the blanket first, and Bitty hesitated for only a fraction of a moment, just that old, wellspring of fear which he shoved back down as he sat between the V in Jack’s legs and let his back rest against his boyfriend’s chest. He felt Jack chuckle quietly, felt his arm tuck securely round Bitty’s waist, his nose pushed up against Bitty’s neck.

“Feels good?” he asked.

Bitty could tell people were staring, he imagined he could hear whispers full of disdain and judgement. He smiled wide and nodded. “Feels amazing, sweetpea.”

*** 

The goodnights with his parents were less tense after everyone had gone home. Suzanne seemed to be relaxed, and even Coach had stopped looking askance every time Bitty and Jack so much as dared touch hands. Bitty had to assume his parents had more issues with them being open in front of family than being together, which somehow made it feel worse. But Bitty was too tired to pick a fight.

“We’ll see y’all tomorrow,” he said, leaning on his cane as Jack hovered near the door, keys in hand. “We were hopin’ to take the boat out.”

“You sure you can handle that thing, Junior?” Coach asked, eyeing them both.

“It’s all hand controls, daddy,” Bitty said, with a flippant wave of his hand. “And Jack grew up on boats.”

“If you’re sure, son,” Coach said, and Bitty realised he had directed the question at Jack.

“Yes, sir,” Jack said, shrugging. “It’s docked, right?”

“It is. Junior here knows how to get there, and he’s got the keys. You two comin’ round for dinner, then?”

“That’s the plan,” Bitty said, and kissed his momma on the cheek, and got his shoulder squeeze from his dad.

Then, before he could process anymore, they were out the door and back on the road. It was several miles out before Bitty spoke again, and it was from behind a tired sigh.

“That could have gone worse. Could’a gone better but…I’ll take it.”

Jack said nothing, but his careful look of affection said all he really needed to.

*** 

Bitty woke in a better mood, less full of nerves and fear of the unknown. He and Jack ordered room service for breakfast, having pastries and coffee lounging in the bed. They showered after, dressed, then headed to the docks which was a fair drive, but they arrived before most of the crowd which Bitty assumed were all still sleeping off their post-firework hangovers.

His parents’ boat was something his dad had gotten Bitty’s sophomore year in high school. It was a small thing, a decent motor, a flat platform for fishing, and a canopy to protect them from the worst of the Georgia mid-day, summer sun. 

As Bitty loaded up their things, Jack familiarised himself with the controls, then waited for Bitty to draw up the anchor and pull in the rope. When they were free to go, he started a lazy cruise out toward the open water where only a few boats could be seen zooming from place to place.

“There,” Bitty said, pointing to a curve in the lake obscured by a large rock. “There’s a pathway through there, which’ll take us by a pretty secluded swimming hole. Locals don’t like to use it because it’s too much of a hike, and there’s no good fishin’ there so we should be left alone to relax.”

Jack nodded, not questioning Bitty’s desire to be away from prying eyes. It wasn’t long until they were in the small cove, Bitty dropping the anchor, and Jack standing up to stretch. His legs glinted in the afternoon sun, bright and shining. He stared at Bitty from behind his dark shades, then slowly reached for the hem of his shirt and dragged it up over his head.

Bitty felt his breath catch, felt his legs propelling him in Jack’s direction until Jack’s hands were tugging at Bitty’s own shirt, exposing his more pale skin to the unforgiving light. “Sun cream,” Bitty murmured as Jack kissed along his shoulder.

“In the bag,” Jack replied. He detached himself to rummage through their things as Bitty laid out a handful of towels on the platform. He adjusted the canopy so they had partial shade, then sat down and let Jack get behind him to rub the cream all over his back. “Wouldn’t want you to burn.”

“It’s definitely not attractive,” Bitty confirmed. They swapped places, and Jack worked on his front while Bitty worked on his back, and soon enough they smelt slightly coconutty, and were warm and sleepy as they laid back to stare at the sky which had gone very pale blue with the bright sun. Rolling onto his side, Bitty propped himself up on one elbow, letting the fingers of his other hand trace round the cascade of Jack’s scars. They were like a roadway down his sides, some thin and reedy, others thick from where his body had slid across the tarmac. Below his pecs sat his half-moons, thin now, faded yellow-white against the slightly darker shade of his skin. Bitty touched the edge, and Jack smiled. “When did you…”

“I was nineteen. A year after the overdose—the accident. I…I’d wanted to do it for a while, but I couldn’t afford to take the time off from hockey, and I didn’t want to make the choice, you know?” Jack shifted so he was a little on his side. “By that point I’d already been under the knife so much, a little surgery like this wasn’t going to make a difference. I just…I needed to do something for myself, to reclaim my body. The accident had taken so much out of my hands that I…” He stopped, shrugging.

Bitty leant over, kissing the edge of his jaw. “I get it.”

Jack let out a small breath through his nose, shuffling closer, so their thighs touched. The edge of his titanium knee bit into Bitty’s exposed skin, but the feeling was comforting in a way, keeping Bitty grounded. “I know you do,” Jack murmured. He shifted up onto his side, elbow pressing into the towel as he drew Bitty in for a slow, sun-warm kiss. “I love you.”

Bitty flushed. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

“I just…want to remind you. I know how hard it is to be here and deal with all this. I can’t take away the pain, but I can…I can give you that. A reminder.”

“Just you bein’ here with me is everything, Jack,” Bitty said. He laid back down, still on his side, and Jack followed, mirroring him. They were almost close enough to brush noses, but not quite. Bitty could see Jack blinking behind the dark lenses of his shades. “I wouldn’t have wanted to come back on my own. I…I keep thinkin’ about how I almost left and…I’m not sure I would’ve survived it.”

“I’m sorry I ever let you feel like you weren’t everything to me.”

“It was my own fault. Self-preservation. I told myself not to fall for you, and that’s exactly what I did. Then I panicked and tried to run because that’s what I’m best at.” Bitty closed his eyes, sighing. “I’m getting braver.”

“You’re already brave enough,” Jack said, an almost fierce note to his voice. His fingers touched Bitty’s chin, drawing his gaze back. “You’re brave enough. You don’t need to put yourself through anymore. You don’t have anything to prove. If…if this is good for you, if it feels good, then I support you. But just know that I already thought you were the bravest man I’ve ever met, and that was before I realised I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life.”

Bitty felt his throat go tight, his eyes a little hot. When he spoke again, his voice came out rough, but he was smiling through it. “Careful, Mr Zimmermann. That almost sounds like a proposal.”

“Almost,” Jack said, his voice quiet, full, and very careful. “But it won’t be on a boat in the middle of Georgia.”

“It won’t?” Bitty asked, his heart beating wildly.

Jack shook his head, solemn, though his lips twitched in the corners. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Bitty let out a watery laugh as Jack kissed him and kissed him. “Well not to give too many spoilers, sweetheart, but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna say yes.”

Jack’s grin was brighter than the sun.


End file.
